Let's Just Ignore Him
by igirisexual
Summary: America is a rude meanie-pants out to get his old opposition, Russia. When Russia starts to get quite unsettled, he's lucky he has China to keep him calm and get him through this three-day meeting without skinning America alive. RoChu, Canonverse, mostly fluff.


Let's play out another average day here. World meeting. This time, at England's house. Everything went as it always did. Because change is rare. Really, though, nothing ever got done at these conferences. It was more like.. It was more like nation day care; a place where their bosses dumped them (and let them pretend they were making decisions) while the real meeting was being carried out somewhere else. You should know how this goes by now. Canada's invisible. America shouts. England calls him an idiot. France is making kissy-faces at Seychelles, or England, or America, or Canada, or really anyone for that matter. You know France. And then Germany would start to yell and tell everyone to shut their _verdamnt_ mouths.

Eventually Germany's wishes were ignored, and a low chatter reverberated around the room. "I haven't gotten across a single point today," observed China, sighing and resting his elbows on the table. "I want my cats."

"Did you not leave Leon in charge of your cats?" Russia mused quietly, sitting in a like manner to his close friend. "I'm sure he will look after them. Perhaps even better than you can."

"Not true!" China huffed, gently slapping Russia's shoulder. "I look after my cats better than anyone!" He was forgetting that one time that he let one of his cats get drunk.

"Your memory must be fading with age," chuckled the larger nation.

At last, the tragically monotonous meeting drew to a close, and everyone started to pack up. China and Russia were some of the last to stand, as they had been quite absorbed in their conversation, and didn't take notice of the conference's close. "It seems we're to be going," mused China, standing up. "Aiyah, all this sitting about is no good for me," he sighed, stretching and subsequently cricking his back. "Ivan!" he commanded as he stood, bent over a little backward. "I'm stuck."

"Indeed you are," Russia nodded, standing up and looking down at the tiny man. "My my. What a conundrum, Yao."

"Fix it for me!" Yao demanded. "My aching bones demand you do so!"

"You look like you have a bad vertebrae," laughed Ivan, petting Yao's shoulder and making no effort to fix his back as of yet. "Oh dear."

"Ivan, I'll put spices in your coffee!" he threatened, narrowing his amber eyes. Ivan sobered up from his laughter and quickly helped Yao stand up properly again.

"No need for such abhorrent threats." Ivan smiled weakly. "But, if you decide to so as such, I'm afraid I must give you a weak poison in your tea. Not a fatal one, as I care for you too much. Perhaps it will just give you bowel aches."

Yao rolled his eyes. "You're certainly charming, Ivan."

"Would you consider getting something to eat?" Ivan queried, fixing his coat and glancing down to his friend. "With me, I mean. Of course you would eat, it's one of your favourite pass-times, I meant with me; I assure you-"

"Yes," scoffed Yao, interrupting. "I know what you mean. Let's go and find a French restaurant so we don't have to put up with English food."

"I'm not sure that they have French restaurants here," Ivan joked quietly, putting one arm around Yao's shoulders. "You know how it is with Arthur and Francis."

"Hey!" a loud and incredibly obnoxious voice cut in, and Ivan found, when he turned, that he now had an accusatory index finger jabbing into his personal space. He frowned, and narrowed his eyes.

"What is it, America?" Ivan murmured.

"What the heck are you two doing? Tryin' to make a secret alliance without telling your bosses?!" America gasped, waving his finger about madly. "I'm calling conspiracy!"

"We're just going to eat," Yao huffed, slapping America's chubby finger away from Ivan's face. "Hardly making a secret alliance. Now go away, you pesky child. Before you upset Ivan." America narrowed his eyes to a glare and locked them with Ivan's as he slowly backed away. He made an 'I'm watching you' gesture, before turning and scampering off to dive on England or something.

"How far back do you think America's fingers will bend?" Ivan asked on the way to scout for a French restaurant. Yao seemed perturbed.

"Uh," he said, watching the streets as they trod down the footpath. "That's a good question. I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"

"I like practical results more than theoretical," Ivan smiled slightly. "It irritates me that he cannot just accept that friendship doesn't have to be the basis of a new confederation."

"Perhaps he doesn't have any true friends." Yao shrugged, making large and childish steps.

Ivan shrugged. "That would be sad, should I care."

They finally found a nice restaurant and settled inside, enjoying a rather romantic meal. It didn't help that Francis was here too, and was telling their waiter about various nice aspects of their lives. Like, thank you, Francis, for sharing cute and embarrassing things about Yao and Ivan. They ate and chatted quietly, enjoying a nice evening together and trying to ignore Francis forming a love-heart with his hands and making kissy faces.

As the world meeting was to be continued tomorrow, Ivan rented a hotel room for the two of them to share. It seemed that he had misconstrued their relationship to the person at the desk, as when they entered the hotel room, they were met with a double bed instead of two separate singles. "You don't mind, do you?" Ivan asked softly as he shed his coat and put it down.

"I feel too sick to mind," Yao reminded him, flopping down on the bed and rolling onto his back; his stomach ached because he'd eaten much too much at the restaurant. "I always over-eat after meetings."

"I could always perform a stomach pump on you," Ivan suggested, kicking off his shoes and looking into his pack for his pajamas. "I would need a scalpel, some tubing-"

"I'll pass."

Ivan went and changed into his pajamas; thigh-high black socks, loose shorts, and a thin black shirt with sleeves that reached well past his fingers. "Here I am," he announced, laying down on the other side of the bed. "Are you sure you don't want a stomach pump?"

"I'm sure," nodded Yao, rolling onto his side to face Ivan. "I'll survive."

"A shame; I don't have the right materials here anyway," Ivan sighed, smiling slightly at Yao. "Do you wish to sleep? We do have another exhausting day of conference tomorrow."

"Turn off the lights then," he puffed. "Then, we may sleep."

Ivan simply whined, turning to look at the small lamp upon the nightstand. "Must I? I'll certainly have nightmares if I'm left to sleep in the dark." He puffed quietly, and turned back to face Yao.

"I will have to shut out the light another way," Yao said rather curtly, shuffling closer and pressing his face against Ivan's chest.

"You're odd, Yao," Ivan sighed, putting one of his thick arms about Yao's waist. "Goodnight."

* * *

"Ivan, you're crushing me." Ivan blinked his eyes open at this statement, and he found himself looking down at Yao.

"Oh, so I am," he observed, not moving an inch. "Is this a problem?"

"Uh," said Yao, narrowing his eyes. "I can't move."

"That's okay," Ivan hummed. "I don't mind."

"Please get off," Yao whined, giving him a light shove. At this, he rolled off, and laughed softly.

"What a nice way to wake up." He sighed quietly, looking up at the hotel room ceiling. "I do like seeing you first thing in the morning. It tells me my day will go well."

"You're such a sop," Yao scoffed, standing up and rubbing his reddened cheeks. "I'm going to make breakfast, since your idea of such a thing is soggy porridge."

"There's nothing wrong with porridge," Ivan retorted. "It's lovely with currants and honey, Yao."

"I'll only let you get away with it now because we're in England." He murmured, walking into the kitchen to inspect the cupboards. "Well, fuck."

"What is it?" Ivan yawned, toddling into the kitchen after Yao. "Do you have a problem?"

"The only thing in these goddamned cupboards," he groaned, slumping over in defeat. "Is porridge."

Thusly, Ivan took over and made them both some porridge, and Yao complained throughout the whole meal (even though it wasn't that bad). They forced themselves to dress and get ready for the meeting, and Ivan and Yao walked aside one another back to the building where the meeting was to be held. At last, they arrived, and they headed inside. Ivan was praying that he didn't need to speak to America again today.

Ivan-.. Er, Russia – sat down, resting his hands in his lap, and China sat beside him, hands resting on the table. Once everyone had turned up, England conducted the meeting and listed what points they were to try and go over today. Everything was orderly for a while, until America's hand shot up with a question. "Hey, dude!" he demanded, glaring at the island nation. "We should talk about the dissolution of the Union of Sucky Sucky Russia!" China narrowed his eyes, and turned to glance at Russia, who was also agitated.

"Why would you want to bring that up now," muttered England, staring at America, frustrated. "We were about to discuss a more serious matter, you know, economies."

"We should totes talk about that, though," America shrugged, eyeing Russia almost aggressively. "How everyone left 'cos Russia fucking sucked, _LOL_."

England paused, glancing between the two nations (Russia and America) and then tutting. Russia went to stand, but his hand was taken from below the table, and China yanked him back down to sit. "You two, calm down," England grunted, glaring at the two of them. "America, that's an unrelated issue, and foremost, let's keep the personal jeers for somewhere that isn't my house." He murmured.

"Well that was rude," China mumbled, holding Russia's hand a little more gently now. "What an ass."

"Yeah," he replied half-heartedly, eyes still boring into the smirking American's. "He should think before he speaks, should he not wish to wake up with broken arms."

"Hey, hey," he tried to soothe him, rubbing the top of Russia's hand with his thumb. "Don't pay any attention to him, alright?"

"Alright."

Russia wasn't paying much thought for the rest of the meeting; he was focusing his mind on staying calm and not getting too angered. He knew he had a bit of a struggle with staying tempered, but he couldn't help thinking that sometimes America needed a good fist to the face. What had provoked those remarks? He was being incredibly rude in bringing up a sensitive subject for no reason; it was probably a purposeful bite at his pride. He was seething with anger and frustration as the meeting started to close.

"I have an actual factual thing I need to say," America demanded, waving his hand about violently in the air.

"If it's about Russia, don't," barked China rather defensively, and Russia was pulled back to reality.

"Well, _rootin' tootin'_," scoffed America. "It's about the both of you guys. Okay, okay-"

"I haven't said you can answer yet!" interrupted England.

"Can I answer?"

"No!"

"Okay, so," continued America, ignoring England entirely. "I've come to the conclusion that China and Russia are trying to form a secret alliance!" he gasped, standing up to give himself more power. "They've been passing notes under the table all through today's meeting!"

"We have not!" China exclaimed, gritting his teeth in irritation.

"Really! I haven't seen you guys's hands all meeting! C'mon, show us! Empty your pockets!" America demanded, getting stares from everyone. Especially Russia, though. Slowly, China lifted his hand, and in it, Russia's.

"I'm not afraid of your accusations," he insisted bravely, taking a deep breath and putting their laced hands to the table.

"Look at that, they're conspiring with a handshake!" cried America, too dense to see what was actually going on here. "What dastardly deal have you made!"

"We're going," Russia announced quietly, turning and leading China out of the meeting room, grabbing their bags in his free hand.

"Going to conspire!" America jeered, but was then silenced. Perhaps England had hit him. Russia wasn't sure, as he'd turned away.

"Ivan, are you okay?" Yao asked as he was dragged down the street. It was raining, yet Yao hadn't had a single chance to get out his umbrella. "Ivan, please slow down!" he huffed as he found himself almost tripping on the wet pavement. This seemed to snap Ivan out of his stupor, and the larger man took a deep breath.

"Sorry," he mumbled as Yao furiously dug about in his bag for his umbrella. He opened it and gave it to Ivan to hold, since he was taller. "I'm just offput."

"It's America, right?" Yao spat, irritated. "I wish he would just lay off. Try not to pay too much attention."

"I shouldn't be upset by such childish things, yet I am," Ivan muttered, walking slowly along the street. "I suppose that makes me a child, too."

* * *

The third day of the meeting, tensions were definitely heightened between America and Russia. Yao practically had to force Ivan to dress at their hotel, and he was dragging him by the scarf to get him to the meeting room. '_I don't want to go_,' he had said, hiding himself away under the covers of the double bed. '_The world can live without my horrible country for one meeting_.' Yao had said that was nonsense, and that he simply wouldn't like a world without Russia in it.

Germany and England were currently arguing over who was to conduct the meeting. As such, America stepped in and tried to direct it. I say tried, because the clamor of the room was deafening, and not even America could be heard. Russia just glanced down to China, one hand in his in case America upset him again and he needed comfort. "It's so loud," mumbled Russia to himself. There was a gunshot, and everyone in the room shortly fell silent. America puffed and blew at the pistol he'd withdrawn from his inner suit pocket.

"Now, everyone, shut up and listen to the voice of justice!" he declared, causing at least a few nations to groan quietly. America was running the meeting pretty decently, although he had a bad habit of insulting everyone else's views in lieu of providing his own. Something rose up above the white noise of his irritating inflection, and it caught both China and Russia's ears. "Has anyone considered my point about that secret alliance yet?" he asked, staring daggers at Russia. Russia slumped a little in his chair, but focused on where his fingers laced with China's.

"No, for heavens' sake, America," chided England. "Stop having a go at Russia. Do you _want_ another war?"

"No," America huffed childishly, sticking out his tongue. "I'm just bringin' up a serious issue, dude. If there's a secret alliance amongst us, then it's danger."

"It's not a secret alliance!" China interrupted, irritated. "It's nothing! Stop calling this to light when it is nothing at all!"

"Why'd you deny it so passionately, then!" America refuted, standing up and putting his palms down on the table. "Guys, please, I'm calling a threat here!" He whined, looking around to the rather unimpressed other nations.

"Because you annoy me!" puffed China, standing up as well as America's boosted height belittled him. Saying directly that he was protecting Russia's feelings was out of the question. "Can you not just leave Russia alone and pick on someone your own size!"

"Oh, yeah, right," America scoffed. "Well, whatever; at least I'm not making secret alliances to communize the world!"

"That is an exaggeration!" China growled.

"Aha!" he laughed, pointing accusingly at the two of them. "So you two _do_ have a secret alliance!"

"Maybe, but not to the degree you're thinking of." At this point, China began to falter, and he looked down to the sitting Russia for help. Quivering, Russia stood.

It seemed the other nations had pretty much fled to the corners of the room, fighting quietly amongst themselves or bashing one another up. They knew it was better not to mess with either America or Russia when they were both involved in an argument that could quickly turn lethal. "Hey, Ivan?" China mumbled quietly. "You gotta be cool when we do this, and we gotta make him cry."

"Do what-" Russia started to say, but a certain look from China alerted him to the plan they'd discussed quite some time ago. He recalled labeling it _Sure-fire American Repulsion_. "Oh."

"Honestly, what the hell are you talking about now?" America huffed, glaring at the two of them.

"We do have an alliance," said Russia calmly, looking across the table at the frustrated America. That look of aggravation quickly turned to one of triumph, and Russia's crooked smile grew. "Do pay attention," he huffed, trying to get his nerves prepared for this one. Slowly, he turned toward Yao and leant down, pausing when their eyes were level. Once a moment had passed, and once he'd seen America's smug smile out of the corner of his eye, Ivan leant forward and pressed his lips against Yao's; he held him in a soft and sweet kiss for a moment.

Slowly, as America's sneer faded and was replaced with a look of sheer terror, Ivan's free hand rose from beneath the table, revealing that he was giving dear America the finger.

* * *

**rochu fluffy kinda thing uwu**


End file.
